


By Blood and Silver

by NeoVaihlo



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, Demon Tweek, Exorcist Craig, M/M, imp tweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVaihlo/pseuds/NeoVaihlo
Summary: AU story of Craig Tucker and Token Black working for the Church as Exorcists. (will give a proper summary later)





	1. Prologue

The screams cut through the night air like a chainsaw. Birds took to the sky, dogs howled, cats hissed and the rodents scurried away in terror. The house lights were on as a black car pulled up in front, its engine cut off and its lights fading out moments before the driver side door opens and black leather boot hits the pavement, soon followed by its owner; a young man dressed in black with a white priest’s collar, a dark blue long coat and a well worn dark blue and yellow fleece cap, two long threads hanging down from the cap past the wearer’s ears and neck. A half burned cigarette glowed brightly in the young man’s mouth as he inhaled, standing beside the car and listening to the screams ripping through the cool air.  
Looking up at the house, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and slammed the car door shut, taking hurried steps towards the house and bursting through the front door. He found the entrance hall a mess, pictures tilted on the walls, the closet mirror beside him smashed, shoes strewn everywhere and a small chandelier swinging wildly on its chain. Moving further into the house he looked into the living room to see a middle aged woman in the fetal position,clutching a young boy no older than 3 in her arms, rocking back forth, tears streaming down her face as she covered the boy’s ears. The man moved to the stairs and rushed up them, the screaming growing louder with each step. He came to a final closed door shaking on its hinges and kicked it open, finding himself now in a girls bedroom. A middle aged man was hunched over the bed, and a teenage boy was slumped against the wall, seemingly unconscious. At the sound of the door being kicked open the older man turned to see the intruder, his eyes wide in terror.  
“You are-?”  
“Move,” the young man said, pushing past the older man and looking down at the bed.  
A young girl was strapped to the bed, screaming and thrashing against her restraints, causing the entire room to shake as she struggled.  
The young man grabbed the girl under the jaw and forced her to look at him. They locked eyes and he saw what he dreaded; eyes black as obsidian, irises red as the setting sun. He let her go and took a step away from the bed, grasping what remained of the cigarette and inhaling deeply before removing it from his lips and crushing it in his hand.  
“What are you waiting for Father?” The older man shouted. “Do something! Please, save my daughter!”  
“She is beyond saving.” The priest said, tossing the butt against the wall. “Look at her eyes. The demon has already devoured her soul. Your daughter doesn’t exist anymore. She is just an empty husk for this monster to live in now.”  
“No…” the man said, his voice weak with despair. “Please… i am begging you…. Do something…. Anything! Please!”  
“Only one thing to do,” the Priest said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a black 1911 pistol. Before the man could utter a word the Priest clicked the safety off, took aim and pulled the trigger. The gun barked once, and the screaming stopped.  
The Priest put the gun away and leaned over the bed to close the girl’s eyes, then turned to leave. The older man put himself between the Priest and the door.  
“You… you were supposed to save her!” he shouted, tears welling in his eyes as his voice cracked.  
“I put her to rest. Had you called us as soon as you realised what was happening, I could have saved your daughter. Instead, all I could do was end her suffering. You want to blame someone, blame the two-bit priests you called before us who wouldn’t know what to do if someone stubbed their toe.”  
The man collapsed and began to sob, and the Priest walked out of the room. The house was calm now, the halls silent, hauntingly empty despite there being four other souls within.  
The Priest left the house and got back into his car. Leaning back in his seat, he sighed as the man in the passenger seat offered him a fresh cigarette.  
“That bad?” the man asked, and the Priest took the offering, quickly lighting it and inhaling deeply.  
“Past the point of no return,” he sighed, filling the car with smoke. The passenger rolled his window down and waved the smoke away.  
“Were you at least tactful in there Craig?”  
The Priest looked to his passenger as the moon came out from behind the clouds, illuminating the man’s dark skin.  
“Fuck off Token,” Craig said as he turned and rolled his own window down before starting the car. “If you’re looking for tact, go find yourself a fucking Youth Pastor.”


	2. Emerald Gleam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig has a roller coaster of a day. (I suck at summaries)

The screams echoed off the walls.  
“Brother!”  
He felt the sweat running off his brow, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind raced for an answer.  
“Please! Save me!”  
He heard the hammer on his 1911 click, felt its weight in his hand.  
“Brother!”

“Father Craig!”  
Craig opened his eyes. He hated these damn meetings, they always made him doze off. He looked up at the council seats; three high thrones set against the back wall of a dark room in the underbelly of the Conejos church. Seated in the chairs were the three most important men in the State, at least according to the church.  
To the left was the High Priest, some middle aged man who lead the weekly congregation above and sat listening to the confessionals. He had a soft, yet stern voice that reminded Craig of his elementary school principal. The comparison made him hate the man by default, even though he was the nicest man on the council.  
To the right was a representative of the Exorcists of the Vatican, a crusty and aged man with a weak voice and a wildly out of date perspective on the world. While he had rarely spoken with the man, Craig still hated dealing with him, especially when the old geezer lectured him about proper procedure. The man still argued for the use of Bible Verses, sulphur and Crosses. Blessed Silver and Holy Water are all that are needed these days as far as Craig was concerned.  
Lastly was the man in the middle, one of the Archbishops from the Vatican. Of all of the Council members, Craig hated this one the most. His pompous attitude. His self righteous ego. His holier-than-thou tone of voice. He reminded him all too much of a certain fat ass that he used to know. Hearing the man talk made his blood boil, and wouldn’t you know it? He was talking.  
“Father Craig, are you listening?”  
“Yes, Archbishop.” he replied dryly. He could already tell he was going to need a drink after this.  
“Once again, you have failed to do your task in a manner befitting the Church,” the Archbishop continued, causing Craig to roll his eyes. “Simply executing your charge without any attempt to expel the demon was-”  
“She was beyond saving,” Craig cut in, his voice low and near growling. “Her soul had been taken. There was nothing I could have done. Anything other than a swift death would have put me and the family in danger, not to mention would have been a colossal waste of my time.”  
“Your actions reflect the image of the Church!” the Archbishop raised his voice in anger.  
“Fuck the image of the Church!” Craig shouted back, his voice echoing throughout the room. “There is nothing that I can do to damage the image of the Church that you lot haven’t done long before I was even born!”  
“Exorcist Craig Tucker!” the High Priest shouted, and Craig spat off to the side, yet held his tongue. “That is quite enough. Archbishop, the job was completed and the payment received. I think we can leave it at that for today.”  
“Very well,” the Archbishop agreed, getting up from his chair and walking off into the shadows. Craig turned and walked out of the chamber, into the shadowy hallway and up the old stone steps and out of the confessional chamber. The church was empty at the moment, the front doors locked as they were for these meetings. Heading to the doors, Craig clicked the locks open and stepped outside, pulling out and lighting a smoke as the sun began to peak over the horizon. He walked down the old stone steps and got into his car, where Token was snoring in the passenger seat. Craig shut the drivers door and Token woke up with a very piggish sound.  
“You fired yet?” Token asked, stretching and rubbing his eyes as Craig fired up the engine.  
“Not yet,” he replied, exhaling out smoke and opening the window, “but I am pretty sure they’re getting pretty sick of me.”  
“Can we get some breakfast?” Token hung his arm out his window and put on his sunglasses as the sun broke the crest of the horizon. “I am starved.”  
“You can take the car, I’m not hungry.”  
Token looked over at Craig as they drove down the road.  
“I know full well you haven’t eaten in over a day Craig. You need to eat.”  
“I’m fine.” Craig exhaled more smoke.

They drove in silence for another twenty minutes until they pulled up in front of a hospital. Craig left the engine running and got out of the vehicle.  
“You sure you don’t want anything Craig?” Token asked as he got out and walked around the front of the car. “Griddle? Hashbrown? Muffin?”  
“I don’t want anything.” Craig said again as he walked to the hospital doors. He heard Token mutter something as he got into the car and drove away. Craig kept his gaze on the ground as the front doors slid open, welcoming Craig in. The receptionist looked up and smiled.  
“Mr. Tucker, welcome back.” she said warmly.  
“Any changes?” he asked as he approached the desk and signed the visitors log.  
“I am sorry, no.” the nurse sighed.  
Craig nodded and walked past the desk, down the left hall and turned around a corner to enter the long term care ward. Three doors down and he stopped, staring at his own shadow on the wooden door, his heart rate slowing. With a heavy sigh, he reached out and opened the door. Inside the room in the bed lay a young woman, long strawberry blonde hair, her eyes closed, her chest slowly rising as falling as she slept. Craig approached the bed and sat in the chair next to it.  
“Hey Tricia,” Craig said, removing the fleece cap from his head and setting it on his lap. “How’re you feeling today sis?” He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, feelings its warmth in his. As always her fingers just lay limp in his grasp, no strength, no sign of life. Craig closed his eyes and fought back the tears as a lump formed in the back of his throat, his shoulders shaking. Four years. She had been like this for four years. Doctors had no idea what was wrong with her. She breathed on her own, her brain waves were normal, her eyes responded to light, yet she couldn’t wake up. No one could figure out why she wouldn’t wake up. Yet he had his suspicions, and the number one reason was simple: it was his fault.  
He could still remember that night. The flames that had consumed his house. His father’s screams, trapped in the basement, telling him to save his sister. His mother laying under that burning beam, lifeless. And his sister, writhing on her bed, screaming in agony, in terror, her blue eyes slowly being consumed by the black, that emerald gleam behind her pupil, as though the creature that had invaded her was staring right at him. And him being powerless to do anything to save any of them. Powerless, clueless, and completely hopeless. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Excuse me, Mr. Tucker?”  
Craig jerked away, unaware that he had ever fallen asleep, his hand still cupped around his sister’s. The nurse from the front desk was standing behind his chair, holding a chart and a cup of coffee.  
“Sorry to wake you, but visiting hours are over. You will need to leave.”  
Craig slowly rose out of the chair, giving Tricia’s hand a light squeeze before turning to the nurse.  
“You call me if anything changes.” he stated flatly, and the nurse smiled and nodded, handing him the cup of bean juice. He took it and looked at his reflection in the dark liquid, its aroma bringing back memories of better times and love lost. Taking a sip and regretted it. It was weak, more warm water than coffee. But he still thanked her for it and walked out into the hallway, taking another sip as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Dropping the cup in the first garbage bin he passed, he took out his cell and swiped the screen.  
“Tucker.”  
“Finally!” It was Token. “Craig, we got a call for an urgent job! Another kid has been targeted. Parents claim it started about three days ago. I am already at the address, cab your ass here now!”  
Craig’s heart rate increased and he hung up, swiped to his emails and searched the address in the dispatch message.  
“I am getting sick of this shit.” he muttered as he called for a private taxi from the Church. “Getting real sick of it.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Craig stepped out of the taxi and walked briskly to the front door of the house. He didn’t need to double check the address; it was pretty freaking obvious that the house with blinking lights and howling dog was the one with a demon in it. He let himself in and found himself face to face with a young woman, no older than seventeen, standing in the entryway. Her eyes were wide and her breathing ragged, clearly trying to decide if she should run or stay.  
Craig fished his cross out from under his shirt, the sight of it seeming to calm her a bit.  
“Downstairs, they’re downstairs!” she said. He pushed past her and, finding the stairs, thundered down the steps into a spacious basement. A woman was knelt on the floor outside of a shaking door, a rosary in her hands and a nonstop prayer coming from her lips. Beside her was a young dog, barking at the door. Craig walked by, giving the dog a quick scratch behind the ears as he passed, and opened the door to the all too familiar scene.  
A young boy was strapped to the bed, thrashing against his restraints, shaking the entire room. A man, obviously the father, stood to the left, a cross in one hand and a bible in the other, sweat dripping from his brow and his teeth clenched in fear. To the right of the bed was Token, Silver Rosary in hand and a flask of Holy Water in the other as he recited verse after verse, trying to find the one that the demon in the child would not particularly care for.  
Craig slammed the door shut behind him, causing both men to turn and face him. Token stopped chanting and briskly walked over to him and speaking into his ear.  
“It is not looking good, the kid is almost gone.”  
“After only three days?” Craig asked in shock. Normally the point of no return was around ten days. This was not normal.  
“I know, I don’t get what is going on here.”  
Craig pushed past Token and leaned over the bed, forcing the boy to look him in the eyes. Pure black.  
“Fuck,” Craig swore as he reached into his jacket for his gun.  
“What can we do?” the father asked, his voice shaking, unaware of what Craig was reaching for.  
“All we can do is end your child’s suf-” Craig froze mid-sentence, his heart beating pure ice through his veins as he continued to look at the boy’s eyes. Within the darkness he saw the faintest sign on dark brown, and behind that was the Emerald Gleam that had haunted him for the past four years. He left the gun in its holster and mounted the bed, whipping his head around to look at Token and reaching out to him.  
“HOLY WATER!”  
Token stood, dumbstruck, for a moment before reacting, tossing the flask to Craig and rushing up beside the bed. “MARK 1:23!”  
“I don’t know the New Testament from memory yet!” Token panicked. The father tossed Token his Bible and looked to Craig, hope entering into his eyes.  
“What can I do?”  
“Get something flammable! Gas! Lighter Fluid! Alcohol! ANYTHING!”  
The man ran out of the room as Craig unscrewed the top of the flask and Token flipped to the needed pages.  
“Just then there was a man in their synagogue with an unclean spirit; and he cried out, saying, ‘What business do we have with each other, Jesus of Nazareth? Have You come to destroy us?’”  
Craig poured the water on his hand and pressed his palm against the boy’s face. The skin sizzled and smoked, and the child screamed out an unnatural sound, causing the dog’s barks to turn into whimpers.  
“‘I know who You are--the Holy One of God!’"  
The child convulsed and forcefully regurgitated a black liquid out of his mouth. Craig covered his face in time from the blast, then reached down and tore the boy’s shirt open, pouring more water onto his hand and drawing the Holy Trinity over the boy’s heart. Again the skin sizzled and once more the boy shrieked.  
The father rushed back into the room with two bottles of rum. Craig took one and opened it, blessed it and began pouring a circle around the bed.  
“And Jesus rebuked him, saying, ‘Be quiet, and come out of him!’ Throwing him into convulsions, the unclean spirit cried out with a loud voice and came out of him.”  
Craig poured a second circle around the first one, emptying the first bottle. Reaching into one of his pockets Craig took out a little wooden box and opened it, revealing a fine grey powder. Taking a pinch of it he began to trace symbols in the space between the two circles.  
“And Jesus rebuked him, and the demon came out of him, and the boy was cured at once.”  
Craig blessed the second bottle and took it, opening the closet and pouring another circle, then tracing a pentagram in it with the powder before shutting the door. Rushing back to the bed Craig lifted the flask again and poured its contents out of the boys head. The shrieking increased and Craig felt his eardrums flip him off for not wearing earplugs. He offered the rum to the father.  
“You may want to take a swig of this.”  
The man did not protest, taking a heavy draw from the bottle before Craig took it back and took a swig for himself.  
“Finish the Verse Token!”  
“Demons also were coming out of many, shouting, ‘You are the Son of God!’ But rebuking them, He would not allow them to speak, because they knew Him to be the Christ.”  
“And you will know me,” Craig said, grabbing the boy by the hair and glaring into his eyes; into that Emerald Gleam in their depths, “As your worst fucking nightmare.”  
“‘But if I cast out demons by the Spirit of God,’” Token’s voice boomed, tracing the Trinity in the air before him as Craig flicked his lighter to life and lit the circles around the bed, the flames roaring up and casting dancing shadows across the bedroom walls. He tossed the lighter at the circle in the closet, igniting it as Token finished the motion and the verse. “‘Then the Kingdom of God has come upon you!’”  
The boy screamed as a black mist shot out of his body. Craig was thrown off of the bed and into the ceiling, feeling the drywall crack as he made contact. Below he saw Token and the father get slammed into the opposite walls, the father going limp from the impact and the flames instantly extinguishing. Craig felt gravity find him again, and he fell back onto the bed, rolling mid air to hit the side of the mattress and avoid landing on the boy. He tumbled to the floor and slumped against the wall beside Token, who was panting from his fevered reading. Without a word Craig offered him the bottle, and Token took it, taking a long draw before passing it back. Craig took another sip, then set the bottle on the floor.  
“Fuck.” he panted, his ears still ringing from earlier. Forcing himself to his feet, he saw the mother and dog slowly walking through the doorway. Craig held a hand up to keep them back as he approached the bed. Opening the boy’s eyes, he saw dark brown eyes staring back at him, pupils dilated in terror. Craig turned his hand and beckoned the mother over, and she rushed to the bed as the father slowly got up off the floor.  
Token walked up beside Craig and reached into his pocket.  
“Here,” he said, holding out a card to the parents as they undid the restraints on the boy, “take him here. They will take care of everything from here.”  
“What do you mean?” the mother asked.  
“Essentially make sure that he is not at risk of being possessed again, as well as keeping the rest of you safe from possession as well.”  
“How?”  
Craig groaned in frustration and pulled the collar of his shirt low, revealing a tattoo just below his collarbone.  
“Circle of Solomon,” he said bluntly, “Prevents Demons from slipping in when you’re vulnerable. Also, you should go now,” he finished, turning an eye to the closet. Everyone fell silent, all eyes on the shadows in the closet until they all heard it; a scratching sound from the darkness. The dog growled, and the father grabbed its collar.  
“Go,” Craig said, pulling out the gun and drawing the slide back, “now.” he released it and chambered the silver bullet with a satisfying ‘clack’. The family rushed out of the room, Token shutting the door behind them and turning to Craig, his expression a mix of anger and fear.  
“Craig! What the Hell did you do? I thought we banished it back to Hell!”  
“Not this one,” Craig growled, slowly approaching the closet, aiming at its depths. “This one is going to give me answers.”  
“Answers? What are talking about-” Token’s expression slowly softened, realization hitting him. “You think…. This is the one that was in Tricia?”  
“I know it was,” Craig said, clicking the Safety off, “I am positive it is.”  
Token walked up beside Craig and picked up the rum bottle from the floor. Slowly the two of them approached the closet, the scratching growing louder, a weak growling adding into the mix as they reached the edge of the darkness. Token reached out and whipped the door open, and both men froze.  
Wild blonde hair. Wide, sky blue eyes. A tattered green shirt. A petite frame that was shaking uncontrollably.  
“No….” Craig whispered, a lump burning in his throat.  
“Craig?” Token asked, his voice shaking, his eyes darting between Craig and the demon.  
The blue eyes locked onto Craig’s face, and a weak, trembling voice spoke.  
“C-C-C-Craig?”  
Something in Craig’s mind snapped. In one giant stride he was on top of the demon and, with a heavy swing, smashed the butt of his gun into the side of its head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I have to apologize folks. I had intended to make this a long and fun story, but the more I thought it out the more I figured this will be a quick and to the point fic. This was originally going to be 2 different chapters, but since both main points were so basic I decided to combine them.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy, and no, I didn't proofread it.


End file.
